


Ge'catra

by HDLynn



Series: Respite [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Childcare, Din knows how to cook, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, affectionate aliit relationships, slightly flustered Din
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:40:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27425866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HDLynn/pseuds/HDLynn
Summary: Between bounties, Din and his Clan of three have an evening of respite and rest together.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You
Series: Respite [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2003611
Comments: 6
Kudos: 76





	Ge'catra

It wasn’t often that Din found himself at rest. He was almost always in a state of movement. Between bounty hunting, protecting his little clan of three, wrangling a fifty-year-old toddler, and keeping up with you — his riduur — the Mandalorian had a lot on his proverbial plate.

So after he had tracked down a rather easy enough bounty in record time he had strangely and easily bowed to your request. Namely, that your little aliit be allowed a bit of downtime on the pretty planet you were currently on. Some time to give the kid, your little Briika, a chance to run around and tire himself out in the soft grasses or be taken wading in the creek that was also nearby.

Briika had, of course, gotten grass-stained and muddy from the explorations as any child worth their salt would. So Din had let you go wash the kiddo off and get a change of clothes while he’d taken dinner upon himself.

He’d built a campfire and also started the now bubbling pots of traditional stew with some spices he had splurged on recently. The spices had been purchased some two planets ago, called different names than he was familiar with, but he had known the colors and smells of them. Tonight just happened to work out to be perfect for him to share a bit of his Mandalorian heritage with his riduur and ad’ika… even if they only were able to end up eating the milder version he had also prepped. Not everyone was able to handle the same amount of hetikles he enjoyed.

“What smells so good?” you called out, coming over from the Crest with the child. The little one had apparently insisted on walking on his own, taking his time to inspect the long grasses for birds and bugs, so their progress hadn’t been the quickest to the campfire but they eventually made it.

You’d dressed him in a clean pair of little grey pants, a slightly large striped shirt, and soft brown leather sandals that had been a recent purchase when the kid had actually surprised you both and started to outgrow some of his other things recently.

“Tiingilar,” Din answered. “It’s spicy stew, very hearty. It’s a traditional recipe, my buir taught me.”

“So that’s the spices you got at our last stop?” You asked.

Din grunted in reply as Briika attached his little arms around his booted foot, giggling up at him.

“Miss me ner ad’ika?” Din teased the child who was smiling up at him like the Mandalorian had hung the stars that were starting to peek through in the darkening sky. “Want to learn how to mix up some camp bread, verd'ika?”

Briika chattered response which sounded really close to some actual words but it wasn’t quite there yet.

“I think that’s a yes,” you smiled at the both of them, the same affection Din was feeling showing plainly on your face. “Mind if I join in the lesson?”

“‘Lek… yeah,” Din said as he went to go get the supplies, careful in his movements with his little passenger sitting on his boot.

The child giggled wildly at each step before father and son returned back to the fire.

Tucking his gloves into his belt, Din ignored the ache in his lower back and the tightness in his thighs and calves as he crouched down to start the unleavened dough.

“Can you chop this up for the dough?” Din asked, handing you a clean knife, the flat skillet to use as a cutting board, and some of the wild swamp garlic leaves he had been able to forage earlier.

You nodded, humming a bit of one of your favorite songs lightly.

Din was struck at how content you looked at to have something to do with him and the kid as he went on to show how to mix the dough.

Taking some handfuls of flour, some of cooking oil, and then adding a bit of water here and there, he mixed it up until it started to form the dough. He then had you slide the finely chopped herb into the bowl. It all got mixed until the mixture was bouncy and resistant to pressure from his fingers all while the flat skillet heated up over some of the glowing charcoals of the fire. His every movement under the close inspection of the kid’s large dark eyes.

“Now, we take a ball of the dough and flatten it in the palm of your hand before stretching it out thinner with your fingers,” Din explained, showing the technique before breaking off a small ball of the dough and giving it over to Briika’s waiting hand. The kid immediately tried to place the raw mixture into his mouth, but you were quick enough to keep him from doing so.

“Soon, my little Briika, we gotta flatten it all out so your buir can cook it first. Then it will be good to eat,” you explained, making the flattening of the dough into a bit of a game.

The kid looked slightly suspicious with that glint, that oh so clever light, in his eyes as he slowly tried to put the dough ball back to his mouth. Din watched, amused, as you just raised a maternal eyebrow. Yet you didn’t move to stop Briika again, just re-explaining, “It’s not going to taste good yet, it will taste better if you wait.”

Briika looked at both of you in turn, clearly suspicious. If bread is good later why wasn’t it good now? He slowly poked out a pink tongue to taste the dough. His little forehead and mouth wrinkled in distaste at the taste of the raw flour, the look pulled smothered chuckles from his buire.

“You should listen to your buir, Briika,” Din scolded mildly as he guided the tiny green hands in the actions with his own larger ones. “Let’s pat it out and cook it, it will taste better after.”

The kid started patting the dough, hesitantly copying the actions at first before continuing with more gusto.

As Din put his piece and then yours onto the skillet while Briika kept patting at his dough ball. The kid had quickly moved past the idea of helping and was just having fun with the sticky texture, happy burbles emanating from him.

“Guess we lost our helper, it's up to you and me now,” you tease Din, gently bumping his shoulder with your own while also flashing him a grin that had him feeling flustered.

All he could do was make a sort of embarrassed sound that wasn’t quite a grunt, but it also wasn’t quite a sputter. He couldn’t keep your gaze, even through the visor, and turned awkwardly back to the fire to turn the flatbreads over.

Maker, you both had been riduure for some time now and you still were able to make him feel this flushed and warm under his armor. It belied logic sometimes, but that gentle softness? The sweet looks and soft touches you gave him so readily? It still touched the Mandalorian deep inside, down into his very guts, making him feel as if his veins were being filled with warm honey.

He ended up doing the turning, each piece only took about a minute or so per side. He moved quickly enough that the heat didn’t burn his fingers, flipping the finished pieces all golden brown and airy onto the waiting plate.

As he finished with each piece, you had the next stretched out piece of dough ready for him. He knew you could tell he was a little flustered if the teasing feather-light brushes of your fingers against his were any indication. But you bestowed some amount of pity of him, asking him about the Tiingilar stew to give him something to concentrate on. Such as what kind of spices it used, the meat and vegetables, and the like.

As Din talked, you scooted a bit closer, he wasn’t even sure you were conscious of it or not. Your knees pressing together in a familiar manner, Din let himself relax into the touch as they worked in tandem.

Yet, he also knew that one heated glance from you would heat him up in ways even the hot spices couldn’t. Despite the ache in his back and the tiredness in his muscles this evening, he was very grateful that you all had this small haven of respite.

~*~*~

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
> Ge'catra - evening  
> Riduur(e) - spouse(s)  
> Aliit - family/clan  
> Ner Ad’ika. - My little one  
> Buir(e) - parent(s)  
> hetikles - *noseburn* - burning sensation in the sinuses brought about by specific spices  
> Tiingilar - intensely spicy stew, the traditional Mandalorian recipe created through a hearty blend of meat and various vegetables  
> verd'ika - little soldier  
> ‘lek - yeah


End file.
